Hired Hottie
His head pops up above the seats while I cringe at his not-so-subtle attempt to be a covert spy.
“Dude, I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s getting a hand job,” he challenges. The light from the forgotten movie shines on his face as he bounces his eyebrows up and down.
“No, they aren’t,” I object. “There’s no way they’d do that in the middle of a crowded theater.”
With a dark chuckle, he pats my head. “Silly, naïve Charlie. Sometimes I forget how innocent you are.”
“Shut up.” I shove his hand away and give him a glare. There’s no point in arguing because we both know he’s not wrong.
“So tell me…do you think it’s hot?” he murmurs.
“Is what hot?”
“That you know some guy is getting his jollies off a few rows back?”
“Why on Earth would I think that was hot?” I ask in disbelief, my eyes widening as I shake my head in disgust.
“I dunno.” He shrugs before glancing at the couple again. “I can see the appeal. I bet he got her off first.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Nah. That’s common courtesy. If a guy doesn’t take care of you first, then he’s an ass, and I want to know about it.”
“You want to know if a guy gets me off?”
The question makes him pause. It’s almost enough to give me hope that the feelings I’ve been harboring for him might actually be mutual.
Nose scrunching, he shakes his head. “Nope. You’re right. I changed my mind. I don’t want to know a thing. You’re like my little sister, and that’s just….” He shivers. “Let’s keep you in the sweet, little naïve box, shall we?”
I open my mouth to make another smartass remark when Mandy appears to my right. “‘Scuse me.”
As I lean back in my chair, Mandy scoots between me and the seat in front of her, bypassing Levi before sitting on his opposite side.
Which means I’ve officially been forgotten. I don’t know what it is. Whether it’s the fact that he’s only here for a weekend before going back to college, and I wanted some alone time with my best friend, or if it’s because he’s so used to having me wait around like a little puppy for his attention that I’ve become his unofficial sideline girl. Regardless, I’m pissed. I hate that I’m always available at his beck and call but easily set aside when a girl with big boobs and the promise of an orgasm comes along.
With a huff, I cross my arms and stare daggers at the screen in front of me. The couple a few rows back is instantly forgotten because all my focus is on the guy beside me. The one that knows I exist but doesn’t value the time he has with me. Why? Because he can have as much as he wants, and I’ll give it to him.
Like I’ve always given it to him.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to ten before standing from my theater seat and practically stomping toward the exit.
Phone in hand, I pull up my Uber app and request a ride while pacing the theater lobby. My black Nikes catch on the sticky floor beneath me, making a squeaky sound. It’s almost enough to distract me from my best friend, who I just recently demoted.
Almost.
I take a deep breath before stepping into the warm summer air of New York City. As I scan the buzzing street, my arm is pulled back, and I spin around to come face to face with said best friend who’s currently on my shit list.
“Yes?” I ask in a snotty voice.
“Hey. Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
I grit my teeth. “Why do you think?”
“Because that couple in the back row was making you uncomfortable?” It comes out as a question, but I can tell he doesn’t believe his guess, either.